Rebellion from Hell
by Suilaid
Summary: Ghernan and Lonas can't stand each other, an Orc and Nord working together? Impossible! or is it?
1. Sunshine

"Will you _stop that_?"

"Stop what?"

Gerhnan stopped walking and fixed the man with an angry glare. Her red eyes glittered like deeply set rubies against her dark green skin, and two small tusks jutted up from her mouth.

"Stop scratching your _balls _when I'm around!" The Orsimer cried, throwing her arms up.

"What can I do, this stupid armor is itchy!"

Gerhnan rolled her eyes and huffed. She spun around and continued to walk, faster this time.

"Why did they have to put me with such a stupid man?" She grumbled. She readjusted the leather strap on her shoulder, glaring at the cobble-stoned road they walked on.

"You think I enjoy this? Being stuck with some God awful Orc?" Lonas called out, jogging to keep up.

Gerhnan spun around and advanced towards the Nord, jabbing her finger into his padded armored chest.

"You better shut up," she snarled, "Before you get hurt." She and Lonas were almost eye level with each other, and they glared at each one another for one long moment. Then Lonas sighed, rubbing a gloved hand down his pale cheek.

"No sense in fighting. Won't get us anywhere."

Gerhnan nodded, and stepped away from him, crossing her arms over her Stormcloak cuirass. "Race is not an insult I will tolerate."

"Okay, okay." Lonas mumbled, waving his hand at her. "I'm tired and hungry, lets make camp already."

The pair walked a little ways away from the main road and into the forest, stopping near a small shelter of trees to camp for the night. After gathering enough wood to start a fire Lonas dropped heavily to the ground, groaning while his tired legs ached from the long days walk. Gerhnan said nothing, but let a small spark of flame from her fingertips, watching as it began to eat up the twigs and branches. She eased herself down into the grass and sighed, stretching out her legs. The Reach was quiet this evening, and had been relatively free of Forsworn bandits that day, although she wasn't complaining; the previous day had been quite eventful. Gerhnan also thought about how their duties were coming along, as boring as they seemed right now.

Lonas and Gerhnan were both eager new recruits for Ulfric's ever growing rebellion. They had both been pretty peeved about getting such a dull job, hunting down Stormcloak prisoners and freeing them from their Imperial captors; but they had disliked each other even more.

"I don't understand," Lonas called to her, breaking Gerhnan from her thoughts. "Why did you join the rebellion?"

Gerhnan looked over at the Nord, who had moved closer to the fire and held his bare hands out to warm them.

"Skyrim is every bit my home as yours, _Nord,_" she growled, removing her gauntlets. She too shuffled closer to the fire and raised her hands, resting them on her knees.

"I know that, but what are you fighting for?" Lonas watched Gerhnan as she mulled over his question, staring intently at the fire with an unreadable expression. Her green toned skin was ablaze with the light from the fire, while the rest of her body was shrouded in darkness. He looked her over properly for the first time, her dark brown hair which had been sloppily tied back out of her face, and a long jagged scar ran from her cheek, down her neck and out of sight, covered by the collar of her uniform. Her ears were pointed, one of which had a piercing and what looked like a wolf's tooth dangled from the lobe. Her tusks were small and white, and he wondered amusedly if they ever got in the way.

Gerhnan could feel his eyes on him. She looked up, and the Nord looked away, turning his attention back to the fire.

"Because I think the people of Skyrim should be pleased to do what the wish, and worship whomever they want. Plus, I hate those stupid Thalmor." She shrugged, turning away to retrieve her pack.

"Aye, as do I." Lonas chuckled, and he too retrieved his pack. Gerhnan handed him some tough meat and what was left of their bread, and they ate in silence. They spread their bedrolls out on the soft grass and Lonas reclined on his, feeling considerably better. Gerhnan sat cross-legged on her bedroll, idly watching the fire. She glanced over at the Nord to find he had pulled out a book, and was reading, using the light from the fire to see. She studied him, having never really paid any attention to the man when they first met in Markarth. He had auburn colored hair that reached just past his shoulders, and a beard to match. His light green eyes moved back and forth across the words in his book, and she watched him raise a hand occasionally to flip the pages, his skin almost pale as snow; a typical Nord. A few faint scars adorned his face, a sign of past fights. Gerhnan shook her head and looked away, rubbing her tired eyes.

"What are you reading?" She asked, and Lonas looked up.

"The Lusty Argonian maid," he replied, and Gerhnan laughed.

"I'm serious!"

"That's really weird," Gerhnan replied, having stumbled across the volume at one point during her travels.

"It's a technique book for blocking."

"Ah," Gerhnan replied. They relapsed into silence, and then Gerhnan pulled off her boots and settled under her blanket.

Lonas looked over at the sleeping Gerhnan, wondering how they were ever going to get along. Not that he necessarily hated Orsimer, leave _that _to his father. However she was really hot headed and stubborn, they clearly had strong personalities, and argued constantly since starting their job less than a week ago.

_Plus I'm a Nord, _he mused, _Orcs think all Nords are alike. _

He sat back up and found a comfortable position, starting his watch. He only woke Gerhnan sometime in middle of the night so that he could rest his eyes for a few short hours.


	2. Markarth

"That looks like him," Lonas whispered to the Orsimer while they crouched out of sight in the bushes. A little ways ahead several men in Imperial garb marched steadily down the road with a bound Nord prisoner.

"Well even if it's not our guy, we'll set him free and back on track." Gerhnan drew her Orcish bow and an arrow from the quiver, aiming at the nearest soldier.

He fell to the ground when her arrow embedded itself into his skull, and then the pair rushed out from their hiding, drawing their swords.

"Stormcloaks!" One soldier yelled, reaching for his sword, but was abruptly cut of by Gerhnan as she brought down her blade on his neck, severing his head.

"Slow fool," she mumbled gleefully, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She greeted the next Imperial with a grin, their swords clashing together; a sound Gerhnan loved to hear.

The fight was over all too soon; the Imperials were no match for two fighting-happy Stormcloaks, and they reached the prisoner who had run to safety.

Gerhnan cut his bonds and Lonas fished around in his pack, producing an extra set of clothes that was dedicated to the soldier's they rescued, and an iron sword.

"Thank you brother," the man murmured, gratefully accepting the items. Gerhnan handed him an extra water skin and bundle of food, and the man gave her an odd look, but thanked her as well.

"Do you know where you are? What is your name?" Lonas asked, re-shouldering his pack.

"Marvin. Aye, I think so, Markarth is the nearest city yes?"

"Aye, take this road and you'll be there by nightfall. Good luck," Lonas pointed to the road leading up the hill, and then the two men grasped arms.

"Thank you again," the Nord replied, and then he turned to Gerhnan and they did the same.

"It's our job," Gerhnan mumbled, and the man left.

The after effects of her adrenaline rush still hummed in her blood, and after seeing the way Lonas fought, had been ashamed that she had wanted him. She blamed it on the fight; it always hyped her up.

Lonas too had felt something when he witnessed Gerhnan fighting; she was so graceful for an Orc. The way she moved was enticing, and he inwardly admitted he had wanted to throw her down on the very road and have his way with the woman; after all the Imperials were dead. He was glad the prisoner took his mind off of such a thought, or he didn't know what would have happened.

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two, and they started to walk, keeping an eye out for Imperial soldiers.

Their orders were to rescue prisoners that had been taken captive by the Imperial army, either by stealth or taking out as many of their enemy as possible. The Reach was their first assignment. Infiltrate all camps, help all prisoners, find information, and straight out cause chaos. They weren't allowed to get themselves captured, and if they were, suicide was the last and final task. It was a heavy job, filled with possibilities, and Gerhnan hoped they proved to be useful.

"Um, so where do you think this guy is being held?" Lonas called to her, and Gerhnan hadn't noticed he had stopped walking.

She turned back around and walked over to him, peering down at the list of names he held. There were seven known soldiers under Imperial captivity, and so far they had rescued three, and the one Marvin; who wasn't on the list.

"We haven't found a camp yet, that might be where he is at."

Lonas nodded, and folded up the paper, tucking it away.

"Well we'll skirt back and go southwest, there's that one camp we know about."

"Sounds good," Gerhnan replied, and they turned around and started back to the road they sent the Nord on.

They reached the city of Markarth just as the sun was setting behind the great stony hills of the Reach, setting the sky ablaze with hues of pinks and oranges. Gerhnan climbed the stairs beside Lonas in silence, ignoring the stares of the guards as they passed through the heavy golden gates.

"I think that's the Inn," Lonas pointed to the set of doors located directly in front of them, and they entered the Silver-Blood Inn. A balding Nord man stood behind the counter, serving drinks, and greeted Lonas.

"What can I do for ye?" The man asked, turning to them. A woman nearby threw some insult about her "good for nothing husband" which was promptly ignored, and Lonas asked if they had any rooms available.

"Aye, there is but one room left," the man replied, glancing nervously between the two soldiers. "Been a lot of activity goin' on lately, rooms fillin' up fast nowadays."

"Uh…" Lonas looked over at Gerhnan, who tensed up, staring down at the counter as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"I…s'pose so." Gerhnan grumbled, and with a sigh she sat down heavily on one of the stools. Lonas paid for the room and sat down as well, and they ordered drinks.

_Of all the bloody things to happen, _Gerhnan thought to herself, agitated; _I have to be thrown even closer to the man than I already am. _

Lonas on the other hand was nervous, he didn't want to get any closer to Gerhnan, and he was already confused by his thoughts from earlier towards her.

A mutual agreement to get heavily drunk passed between the two to numb their minds, and they sat for several hours ignoring each other, drinking their mead and conversing with the other patrons inside the Inn. Neither was looking forward to going to bed, despite the fact it was growing late and they needed their rest before continuing the next morning; and both drew it out as long as they could before they were falling asleep at the bar.

"Come on," Gerhnan murmured in a soft growl, grabbing Lonas's arm and pulling him up. His head started dropping, threatening to hit the table.

"Wha-" Lonas mumbled, his voice slurred.

"Sleep, we need to sleep." Gerhnan replied, fighting off the lulls of sleep herself she slung an arm around him and hoisted him up from the stool, and half dragged him to their room; dropping him unceremoniously on the stone slab that was a bed.

"What kind of bed s'this?" Lonas asked, feeling the stone. Gerhnan ignored him and pulled his boots off, her vision starting to swim. She removed his gauntlets and his sword, dumping them on the floor. She removed her own articles of her uniform and sat down on the slab beside Lonas, who studied her with blood-shot eyes.

"You know…" Lonas whispered, yawning. He scratched his bearded chin, squinting at the Orsimer. "You're pretty… for an Orc."

Gerhnan snorted, twisting around to look at the drunk Nord. He was _really _drunk, and clearly didn't know what he was saying.

"You insulted me, and complimented me in one sentence, Nord." Gerhnan replied, and then she lay down beside Lonas, her body tensing when he shifted behind her. She laid facing away from him, trying to keep her distance so much she was nearly sent over the edge of the bed.

_It wouldn't be any different from the floor, _she thought with a grin, chuckling quietly. Feeling something on her arm she froze, and then slowly relaxed when she realized it was just Lonas covering her with part of the blanket.

He was asleep within minutes, and Gerhnan followed shortly after.


	3. Set our differences aside

Lonas shifted beside Gerhnan, his arm was numb from sleeping on it all night. The other arm was draped casually around the Orsimer's waist, and he snuggled closer to her as he began to wake up. The movement caused Gerhnan to stir, and she lay for several moments rubbing her sleep filled eyes before she noticed the Nord's arm around her waist. When it dawned on her that Lonas was touching her, she shot out of the bed, and, dizzy from the hangover resulted from last night's drinking; fell down with a crash.

Lonas sat up quickly, blushing with embarrassment that his body had betrayed him while he slept, for he had no known memory of ever consciously touching Gerhnan. They had slept so soundly, neither had noticed the other moving during the night.

Gerhnan slowly stood up, feeling the room spin around her, and shakily sat down on the nearby wooden chair. She poured herself some water from the pitcher on the small table, and took a deep drink, trying to ignore the painful throbbing in her temples. Lonas stood with shaky knees as well, his head pounding, and clumsily pulled on his boots. Once he was finished dressing he left the room, needing to get away from the Orsimer and recollect his thoughts, which were currently a big messy puddle. After feeling somewhat more able to function, Gerhnan dressed as well, and joined Lonas in the main hall where he sat with a plate of food, eating like it was his first meal in days.

Reluctantly, the Orsimer sat beside him and ordered some food as well, and they both sat in uncomfortable silence until it was time to leave the Inn.

The awkward tension between the two Stormcloak soldiers proved very difficult for their work, which required them to travel together and discuss plans of action. _Talk. _Gerhnan just wanted to get away from the Nord, she hated herself for the brief dream she remembered having, how… intimate it had been. Gerhnan inwardly grimaced and ran a hand through her tangled hair, readjusting the ties that kept it back and out of her face. Beside her, though keeping his distance, Lonas scratched his beard, which was beginning to get itchy; deciding he needed to shave soon. It was a beautiful day in the Reach, above them were blue skies and the sun shone bright and warm on their back. They traveled well into the afternoon, stopping a couple times to rest and eat.

"How much further, do you think?" Lonas asked at some point when they stopped near a small river to refill their water skins. The hilly and rocky landscape of the Reach made traveling slower, and the two soldiers were starting to feel the effects of walking across the hold.

Gerhnan studied the land, trying to get a sense of distance. She was more familiar with the Rift, as she lived in that hold for many years when she was younger, but knew enough about the Reach to get around.

"I think we can be there tomorrow if we keep going until dusk."

"Okay," Lonas replied, shouldering his pack and standing back up.

Gerhnan followed suit, and the pair crossed the river, beginning a steep climb. Once they crested the hill both of them stopped walking to stare at the beautiful land before them. They could see for miles, and the sun cast lovely hues of oranges over the rocks as it started its descent. It was a reminder for both of them why they loved Skyrim so much, and with considerably better spirits they set off again, in search for the lonely Imperial camp.

They stopped for camp just after the sun set behind the mountains, nestled in a little canyon that kept them hidden from view by a surrounding of rock walls. There was no wood nearby they could gather for a fire, so Gerhnan improvised. She chopped up the ingredients for beef stew and placed it in their beat up cooking pot, adding a few of their precious little spices and water. She held the pot in one hand and cast weak flames at the bottom of the black metal, keeping care to avoid her hand, and within a couple minutes the stew was ready. Lonas had watched her while she worked; impressed with the solution she had come up.

"That's pretty brilliant," Lonas commented, accepting the steaming bowl the Orsimer handed her. Gerhnan mumbled something incoherent, remembering what he had said to her the night before. She wondered if he had any idea that he had called her _pretty, _and shook her head, snorting quietly.

"Whas funny?" Lonas asked, his mouth full of stew. He chewed quickly and swallowed, repeating him self properly.

"Nothing," Gerhnan replied hastily, taking a bite of potato, feeling her face flush.

"Did I do something stupid last night?" Lonas persisted, groaning. "I can't remember shit…"

"Depends on what your idea of stupid is." Gerhnan replied, enjoying the Nord's suffering as he ran through a mental list of possible stupid things he could have done, his eyes wide.

"What did I do?"

"I was only kidding, unless you count calling me pretty as stupid."

Lonas froze, staring at the Orsimer with a dumfounded look. Her red eyes glittered at him in the growing darkness, her face unreadable.

"I… what?"

"You said…" Gerhnan replied slowly, feeling uncomfortable. "You're pretty…for an Orc."

"Oh," Lonas looked down, trying to remember having said that.

"I assumed it was the alcohol."

"What? Uh, no. I mean… I don't remember saying that. But…you are pretty…" Lonas stammered, feeling Gerhnan's eyes on him.

"You don't have to… pretend." Gerhnan replied, feeling a huge urge to get up and run away from the conversation.

"I'm not." Lonas looked up at her, his face bright red. "Look," he continued, sighing, "I know it might seem like I hate you, but I don't. Sure, I didn't think I would be working with a female Orsimer, but I'm sorry for being rude."

Gerhnan stared at the Nord with a mixture of emotions, unsure of what to say. However Lonas wasn't finished his little speech.

"You're an exceptional fighter, and you _are _pretty. You can think whatever you want about me but I'm not racist." Lonas wondered to himself if he had said too much, as Gerhnan was silent for a while.

Gerhnan took a deep breath, looking away. "Thank you," she finally spoke. "I…it means a lot to me to hear that. I was just as rude, and I'm sorry. We shouldn't be fighting amongst ourselves when we're on the same side."

Lonas nodded, smiling hesitantly at the woman. He scooted a little closer to her, and touched her shoulder.

"I can see how lucky I am to have a partner like you… I'm sure we won't always get along, and maybe I'm just feeling particularly nice tonight, but I'll try to be… less of an ass."

Gerhnan laughed, shaking her head at the man, and the rest of the evening went by tension free. They spoke about their growing up, and how they became to be in the Stormcloaks, until sleep started to call them and they settled down into their bedrolls.

"G'night Gerhnan," Lonas called sleepily from his spot on the ground. She could barely make out his figure in the darkness, and wrapped her furs closer around her body.

"Night Lonas." Gerhnan replied, feeling more at ease than she had since joining the Stormcloaks.


	4. Heat of the Fight

It took two days to locate the illusive Imperial camp in the Reach, and it was smaller than they had thought. Maybe a dozen Imperial soldiers milled about their camp, some sat around a fire, eating meals, while others sharpened their swords or discussed the current situation to their fellow soldiers. Gerhnan and Lonas crouched several feet away, hidden behind the rocks, memorizing the camp.

"I count twelve," Lonas whispered, sitting back and out of sight. Gerhnan sat beside him and they considered their options.

"I don't think rushing in and attacking is a very smart idea," Gerhnan remarked, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "I think we need to establish if they have any prisoners first and get them suited to fight. We'll have a better chance that way."

"Good idea," Lonas replied, clapping Gerhnan on the back. "And how are we going to do that?" The Nord ran a hand through his hair, the light catching it so it glowed a warm orange. Gerhnan's thoughts whirled in her head, trying to come up with a plan.

"I think," she started, "there needs to be a diversion of some sort. Attract them away from the tents and one of us will look inside. If any Stormcloak is in there we'll give them a weapon and cut their ties."

"Are we going to kill the Imperials?"

"Well, I'm not sure. What do you think?"

Gerhnan peered back over the rock, watching the soldiers move around. Her eyes narrowed and she turned back to Lonas with a scowl.

"They're part of an army that attacked my parents." She replied angrily.

"What? When…wait. Tell me later. Lets figure this out and be done with it."

The two Rebel soldiers went over their plans meticulously, never leaving out any detail, and for quite some hours more watched the camp and it's inhabitants to get a sense of what they were up against.

"The one thing about Imperials I hate is their training. Nowadays, they're recruiting so often they never have time to train everyone fully."

"I agree," Gerhnan replied, looking over at Lonas. "I find that us Stormcloaks are Skyrim bred and born, with a sword in our hand as soon as we could walk! These men from Cyrodiil," she glanced back at the camp with a look of disgust, snorting. "They did not have to put up with the harsh life of Skyrim, they are no warriors."

"You ready?" Lonas asked, checking him self to make sure he had everything he needed.

"Yes." Gerhnan shifted the pack that was slung over her shoulder; it held swords and scraps of armor.

"Alright, don't get killed." Lonas joked, though there was a serious undertone in his voice, and Gerhnan elbowed him playfully.

"I am Orsimer, when all else fails; go into frenzy!" She slapped her chest once with a growl, and Lonas felt she could truly be terrifying in a fight if the woman wanted to.

As quick as a fox Lonas shot out from their hiding place, swiftly maneuvering around the rocks and out of sight. They had waited until sunset before making their move, and Lonas was to sweep along the outside of the camp to the far side, and create a distraction, all without getting caught. Gerhnan took the time it took for Lonas to come up with a distraction by slowly creeping towards the first tent, keeping in the shadows until he gave the signal. She waited, crouching, until she heard a giant explosion a little ways away, past the camp and near the bottom of a hill.

Gerhnan quickly entered into one of the tents after the men had vacated it, watching with hushed breaths as the Imperials rose up and ran towards the location of the commotion. The first tent proved empty of any person, so she darted to the next one, never staying in the light for too long. It was the fourth tent that held results, three Nord captives bound and starving lay on dirty thin pallets, and at first were shocked to see an Orsimer charge in; until they noticed Gerhnan's uniform.

"You've come to save us!" One called. He was terribly thin, and Gerhnan felt a rush of anger rise up in her as she thought about what the men must have endured.

"Yes," she whispered quickly, kneeling beside the men. "Here." The Orsimer produced several swords, and the mismatched armors, handing them to the men. She reached forward and cut their ties, watching them rub their raw wrists with relieved expressions.

"We are to slay all the Imperials. Can you fight?"

"Aye," one Nord replied, he was much older and his blond hair was beginning to gray. "Those bastards are dead."

The prisoners and Gerhnan rushed out of the tents yelling battle cries, running towards the Imperials which had crowded around a set of boulders that were burning. The startled soldiers turned around, were barely able to draw their swords when the four Stormcloaks were upon them. Lonas too charged out from the dark, attacking the nearest enemy.

They were dead in a matter of minutes, all young men who looked barely old enough to be an adult lay in the bloody grass, staring up at Gerhnan with blank eyes. Their leader, a brute of a Nord, sat bound and gagged on the ground beside his fallen men, glaring up at Lonas, who was trying to get all the information he could from him.

"I won't tell you anything, scum! Just kill me already, I am of no use!"

"If you say so," Lonas replied, drawing a small silver dagger. There was a flash of his arm, and the captain's head lolled backwards, his sliced throat gushing warm blood.

"Yuck!" Lonas cried, jumping away from the spray.

"Come Lonas," Gerhnan called to him, grasping one of the prisoner's arms. He had received a nasty cut to the arm, which could be healed, and the others were relatively unscathed; though desperately hungry and tired. They walked back to the camp, deciding to stay there for the night until the morning, when the three Nords would be equipped with the supplies needed to make their trip to safety.

Gerhnan healed the man's wound and Lonas started cooking a meal, taking what ingredients he could find from the Imperial supplies. The Orsimer drew a list from her bag and sat down by the fire.

"I need to know what your names are, so I can see if you're the one's we've been looking for."

"Anor," the older Nord replied, sitting down beside her.

"You're on here." Gerhnan checked off his name with a piece of charcoal.

The other two men, Negbur and Onnaf, were also on the list.

"That's good," Lonas called from across the fire, he was stirring a pot of hastily assembled stew. "That's four down, including that other one. Three to go."

"Mhmm," Gerhnan grunted, putting the list away. "You can all stay here for tonight. We will give you what you need in order to make it to the closest rebel camp in the morning."

"Thank you, what are your names?" Anor asked, looking at the Orc.

"Gerhnan," she mumbled. "And that's Lonas."

"Thank you Gerhnan, and thank you Lonas, I thought we were going to be executed."

"It's our job," Gerhnan replied, looking at the dark ground. "We go around causing trouble and rescuing prisoners."

"We are grateful you found us in time."

Gerhnan nodded, and went to go find bowls and utensils for eating; bringing them over to Lonas.

"That was good work," Lonas told her, filling the empty bowls with the lumpy soup. "I'm glad our plan worked out."

"So am I, but I just don't like how…young those soldiers were. It creeps me out."

"Aye, they do look too young of lads, it's a shame."

Gerhnan handed out the bowls to the men, and then hungrily ate her own bowl of stew, not letting it cool down before it was gone and her throat burned as punishment. She retrieved her water skin and took a big drink, catching Lonas's eye. He quickly looked away, a blush creeping on his cheeks, and Gerhnan sat with a puzzled expression before shaking her head and standing up.

"Goodnight," Gerhnan spoke gruffly, nodding to the men.

"Goodnight," came four replies, and Gerhnan made her way to one of the tents.

She removed her dirty armor, feeling in need for a bath, and was stripped down to her breeches and sweaty tunic when Lonas slipped into the small red tent.

"Lonas? Wh—"

Before Gerhnan could ask what he was doing, Lonas rushed up to the Orsimer and grabbed onto her shoulders, forcing her back until she hit the table and crashed down on it. She could feel Lonas's lips on her neck, and his hands wandered down her shirt, desperately pulling at the strings to her breeches. Gerhnan's hands splayed across his back, feeling the firm muscles beneath his padded uniform, and tugged at the buckles confining his body. However after a few moments her mind went blank and she weakly pushed Lonas back.

"Wait…Lonas…"

It dawned on Lonas what he was doing, and he quickly threw himself back, his face bright red.

"I-I'm sorry… I don't know…"

"It's the fight. It-it arouses you, yes?"

"Yes…" Lonas replied, looking down at the ground, deeply embarrassed by his actions.

"I…feel that way too. It is common, I think."

"Yeah…yeah I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Uh, okay," Gerhnan rubbed her neck nervously, not sure what she was feeling about it all. What she did know is that her loins burned with longing from his touch, but she pushed _those _feelings away.

"Goodnight," Lonas whispered quietly, and he sprinted out of the tent.

"Goodnight," Gerhnan replied softly to no one, her tent was empty once again and she threw herself down onto the pallet; wiling her self to sleep.

"You fucking idiot," Lonas cursed, running into a random tent. He had grabbed his pack along the way, mumbled goodnight to the other men, and then went to find some privacy. He was so ashamed of what he had done, that had NOT been his intention when he went to see her. Or had it been? Why had he gone to her in the first place? Lonas shook his head, cursing him self again, pulling at the buckles to his uniform. His erection had not died down, and was now a painful ache straining against the fabric of his pants. He quickly stripped down to his underclothes and undid the strings to his breeches, shoving a hand down and beginning to vigorously stroke his throbbing member. He could think of nothing but the Orsimer while he pleased himself, his release was quick and better than most. Once he was satisfied, he cleaned up and climbed into his bedroll, dreading the morning, when he would have to face Gerhnan again.


	5. What do you want?

The next morning was awkward to say the least; Lonas had hastily busied himself with something when Gerhnan emerged from her tent, dark bags under eyes from lack of sleep. After the men were ready and heading in the right direction, the pair began traveling west, unsure of where to go next.

"Where do you think the last three prisoners are being held?" Gerhnan asked the Nord, who had been silent the whole day. She understood his silence; she cursed her self constantly for letting her guard down so easily, all from some stupid kiss from _Lonas_.

_I am not some silly woman run by my emotions; _she reprimanded her self. _I am an Orsimer, and strong warrior of the Stormcloaks. _

"There's probably a camp we don't know about," Lonas muttered, breaking Gerhnan's train of thought. "We need to ask around, can't go blindly walking in the Reach or we'll never find them in time."

"Good idea," Gerhnan replied, and they continued walking in uncomfortable silence.

As nightfall started to approach, they looked around for a suitable place to camp, preferably somewhere out of the open where they were more vulnerable. Gerhnan wordlessly handed Lonas strips of jerky they had taken from the now empty Imperial camp after they settled down in a little ridge, leaving some strips out for her self. Gerhnan lounged with her back against the cool rocks, eating the meat absentmindedly while she watched the sunset. Lonas looked over at the relaxed Orsimer, finding his thoughts straying back to the night before, and he blushed, looking away. The strong woman looked truly beautiful watching the sun as it set behind the mountains in the distance; the rich colours in the sky reflecting softly on her skin and illuminating her brown hair with golden tones. Her strong arms rested against the rocks, her Stormcloak uniform straining slightly against her chest as she moved back on her elbows, the yellow wolf emblem of their army stained and dirty. Lonas swallowed nervously, forcing him self to look away, why was he so attracted to the Orc? He couldn't understand the affect she was having on him, without having done anything to him but be near him all day and night.

Despite his resistance he found his eyes wandering back to her of their own accord, hungrily drinking in the sight of her pretty Orcish face, which was more beautiful than he had seen before for an Orsimer, and he enjoyed looking at his partner. His eyes roamed over her high cheekbones and slanted red eyes, the strong curve of her jaw and pointed green ears, his fingers itching to touch her again.

"Why do you stare?" Gerhnan asked, tired of feeling Lonas's eyes on her for lengthy periods of time. She turned her head to look at him with her red eyes, her eyebrows puckered into a frown.

"I-I'm sorry…"

"No Lonas tell me what it is you want."

Lonas refused to believed he felt attracted to the Orsimer anymore than just sexual, so he told him self to stop being stupid and coughed quietly, looking up at Gerhnan.

"I want to sleep with you," he replied as confidently as he could muster.

"You mean…"


	6. Activities

"You mean…you want to fuck?"

"Well when you put it like that…"

"No, it is not bad. Im just trying to understand."

"Okay," Lonas sighed, looking up at the Orsimer. "I… am sure you don't have any feelings for me, so I thought…since we almost did it last night…that we _could _do it. Just…sex. Fighting clearly excites both of us and…it could be completely strings free."

"Strings free." Gerhnan replied, tapping her white tusk thoughtfully.

"Yeah…without all the relationship part."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Lonas looked skeptic, but Gerhnan had wanted this man for a while now, so it wasn't really a surprise.

"If you want to, then I am willing." They shifted uncomfortably; the tension was growing at an increasing rate. Lonas nodded stiffly, his eyes roaming over the Orsimer's body, and he slowly walked towards her and sat down. Unsure of how to go about seducing an Orc, he reached up and gently cupped Gerhnan's cheek, running a thumb over one of her tusks.

"You do not have to…kiss me. The tusks…"

"I don't mind." Lonas whispered, and then he leaned forward and kissed her.

The feeling of Lonas's lips on hers was surprisingly arousing, and Gerhnan grabbed onto his uniform, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. He clutched her hips while she ran her hands through his hair, enjoying its softness. His beard was rough against her face but it wasn't unpleasant, and Gerhnan brushed her fingers over it as well.

In a matter of moments, or maybe it was minutes, Gerhnan was gently pushed down onto the hard dirt floor, and as their lips parted slightly in order to get a few hasty breaths Lonas curiously ran a tongue over her lip; she tasted like something earthy and flowery. He made quick work of her uniform, and when every last article was gone watched as Gerhnan moved her arms to cover herself, her face blushing furiously.

"Why do you hide yourself?" Lonas asked, looking down at her exotic beauty and moving the woman's arms. Her green skin was such an enticing shade; he ran his hand down her hardened stomach, reveling at how soft it was. He reached up and cupped one of her small firm breasts, gently pinching her nipple and earning a small growl from Gerhnan.

"You do not…do not have to play games Lonas." Gerhnan gasped, closing her eyes when she felt him brush again her sweet spot, and arched her hips into his hand with uncontainable desire.

"I want to," he replied, his own desire flaming within him, his erection was full and strained against the confines of his pants. He grinned, watching the Orsimer squirm as he continued to stroke her folds, slowly inserting one finger, and then another. Gerhnan moaned loudly, her hands digging into the ground, and Lonas couldn't wait any longer.

He stood up and retrieved his fur blanket, laying it on the ground. Gerhnan shifted on to it, watching the Nord while he quickly removed his uniform, appreciating his pale, scarred skin, her eyes wandering over the battle hardened body as he finished undressing.

He knelt down in front of Gerhnan and ran his hands up her smooth legs, feeling the power of her muscled body as she tensed, and then parted her legs; revealing her pink folds. Lonas gently rubbed her, earning another series of growling moans, chuckling at her when she reached for him.

"Do not make me wait any longer," Gerhnan growled, and Lonas needed no more encouragement.

When he entered her, Gerhnan gasped in surprise; he was much bigger than she had expected. Though not as big as an Orsimer, he did not fill her to the brim, but all thoughts were cast away as he found his rhythm, and Gerhnan's head lolled back as she felt her pleasure starting to climb. Lonas gripped her waist, and while keeping the motions he leaned down and took one of her dark red nipples into his mouth, sucking and squeezing while Gerhnan moaned again, gripping his hair with one hand and raking her nails over his pale back.

Their release came quickly for both Orsimer and Nord, the weeks of pent up arousal meant left both partners extremely sensitive, and Gerhnan's body shuddered under Lonas as his seed spilled inside her. Their moans were loud and unashamed, having coupled in the remote late of the Reach, perhaps only Forsworn could hear if any were nearby.

Lonas pulled out from Gerhnan and lay down beside her, breathing deeply. Gerhnan gasped as well, coming down from her high, and she reached for her blanket and wrapped it around her. She wasn't expecting Lonas to stay with her, but he turned to her and wormed his way under her furs, wrapping a cold arm around her waist. Feeling mixed signals, Gerhnan said nothing to the man, and instead drifted off into sleep; exhausted from the night's activities.


End file.
